


your hands say more than words could ever do

by caelestys



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Pepper and Steve are besties, Schmoop, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-17 23:34:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3547865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caelestys/pseuds/caelestys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Never did Steve think it would be this complicated. Not when the words first tumbled from his mouth, lying nose to nose next to Bucky in their big bed, in their airy apartment in Brooklyn, shrouded by blankets and breathing the same air.</p><p>It shouldn't be this hard to marry your best friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	your hands say more than words could ever do

Never did Steve think it would be this complicated. Not when the words first tumbled from his mouth, lying nose to nose next to Bucky in their big bed, in their airy apartment in Brooklyn, shrouded by blankets and breathing the same air. He thinks of the calmness of that moment, the feel of Bucky's leg sliding so warmly, so tantalisingly, against his, the bright curve of his mouth. The way the question felt utterly right, satisfaction settling deep in his frazzled bones like a cat in a puddle of sunlight.

And in the utter chaos surrounding him now, in the present, he rubs his fingers across his aching forehead.

It shouldn't be this hard to marry your best friend.

"Captain Rogers? I'm sorry, I've been sent to tell you—we have Ermenegildo Zegna on your home line asking after your opinion on the samples they sent over—also, you have a Level 8 induction briefing at 1500 followed by a mission briefing at 1600—“

There's an itch under his skin and a feeling like the room is narrowing in on him. Bucky had nearly thrown a mug across the room three days ago, just off the phone with a florist who’d wanted to know what venues they were looking at and the size of the grooms’ party so they could organise a quote for arrangements. Exhausted from their mission in Honduras, he’d shoved the phone at Steve and told him to deal with it, then disappeared into their room, silent and sullen, for the rest of the night.

Steve gives the agent a smile he intends on being friendly and welcoming, but he's sure comes out as murderously strained. How did this even happen? This is his place of work—never mind that he and Bucky have an apartment upstairs in the living quarters of Avengers Tower, but that's not the point. This should not be happening at his place of work. He is a professional, and this is not professional, and he can feel his heartrate rising.

Thankfully, Pepper chooses that moment to swoop in like a particularly vanilla-scented avenging angel, resplendent in sharp stiletto heels, and Steve wants to throw dignity to the wind, cling to her leg in gratefulness and whimper.

Bucky has long since managed to finally evade Tony's personal tailor and disappear, probably to belligerently shoot things in the range downstairs, or curl up in a dark, hidden-away corner with Masya, as he has been increasingly wont to do as the wedding date looms nearer. Steve is starting to see the value in following suit.

"All further requests regarding the wedding will come through me from now on, thank you," Pepper says sharply, taking the clipboard out of the young agent’s hands. "And from 9am to 5pm during the work week, I do not want any SHIELD staff bothering Captain Rogers with non-SHIELD or Avengers related issues, understood?" The agent nods frantically, and is dismissed with a flick of Pepper's wrist.

Steve sighs. "I'm sorry, Pepper. If I'd known it was going to spiral this far out of control, I probably would have hired a wedding planner."

"You will do no such thing when I am here to organise everything for you," Pepper says, smiling at him. "It's a bit noisy in here, don't you think? I think I'd like a coffee. Would you like to join me?"

Steve heaves out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, and offers her an elbow.

✖︎

With SHIELD, it’s always been difficult separating his personal life from his professional life. He’s not been one for public interviews, for radio shows, or galas and dinners, and even the occasional press statement makes him itch uncomfortably. Part of the reason he loves New York is because it's easy to get around, what with New Yorkers' attitudes towards coolly pretending their celebrities aren't celebrities. That's probably why he'd let his guard down when he'd first slipped into the jewellery store in lower Manhattan, seeking out a simple, platinum band for Bucky.

He only found out he'd been made when he was halfway home, the ring sitting like a reassuring weight in the pocket of his hoodie. By the time he’d turned the corner onto their street, Tony had sent him four increasingly disgruntled text messages exclaiming that he could have made a ring out of material more valuable than money could buy, and that he had personal jewellers on speed dial. Natasha had texted a cool 'congratulations', and Sam had called to hear the news. There was already a horde of excited journalists camped out on what he'd previously thought of as the relatively nondescript front doorstep of his apartment building. He'd made TMZ, Buzzfeed, JustJared and Oh No They Didn’t. The wonders of modern technology—it had taken him less than half an hour to get home, and the whole world knew.

Bucky had grinned around the lip of his coffee mug, propped against the counter in a t-shirt and Steve's sweatpants, his hair cropped short, delightfully curly and ruffled from running around the block with Masya. Steve threw his hoodie in a heap on the couch, made a beeline towards Bucky and tucked his face into his neck, the ring box a velvety, solid weight in his fist.

"Something you wanna tell me about the raving horde outside our door?" Bucky asked. He'd been watching zombie movies with abject fascination. Steve knew exactly what type of stories he'd be making up about the ones camped outside their apartment.

"People gotta mind their own business," he mumbled, muffled into Bucky’s warm shoulder.

"You're lucky I already said yes, pal," Bucky said, looping his arms around Steve's waist. "Otherwise this could’ve been an awkward surprise."

"I just hope you like it, because I'm not going back to get you another one," Steve said. Bucky's hands slid teasingly up his back, underneath his thin t-shirt.

“Well, I won't know if you won't give me the damn thing, will I?" Bucky said, sounding like he was smiling, and Steve pulled back to narrow his eyes at him.

"I'm starting to have second thoughts about my evidently hasty and badly thought through decision to marry myself off to a sarcastic little shit for the rest of my life," Steve said.

"Should've thought of that before you asked, punk. Now gimme," Bucky said, making grabby hands at him.

The band was simple, platinum, understated. The way they were, together, down to their bones and stripped to their essence. Steve opened the box with trembling fingers, their bodies still pressed flush together against the counter. He wasn't nervous, not really. Bucky had already said yes. He'd known Bucky would say yes like he knew a compass would point north. But Steve never thought they'd get to do this, not in any universe, not in any lifetime.

Eighty years ago, he'd have eaten his hat to think they would be standing here, in the 21st century, with their dog curled up on the couch and fresh coffee still steaming on the countertop, Bucky standing barefoot and flushed with love, healthy, well-fed, well-kissed, in their big kitchen.

It felt momentous. Like something he should stop to savour.

He'd slipped the ring onto Bucky's silver finger. It had been a perfect fit—of course, because he knew every inch of Bucky better than he knew himself—and pressed himself closer, as close as he could get, lacing their fingers together. He pressed his forehead against Bucky's and brushed their noses together, watching the dusty fall of his eyelashes as he blinked, slowly, in the sunlight of their kitchen.

"Marry me, Buck. Be with me forever," he'd whispered, heart beating so full and fit to burst underneath his trembling ribcage.

Bucky breathed out a shivery, coffee scented breath, and said, "Well, Rogers, I guess I can't say no to that."

Later, they’d sprawled out on the couch, kissing softly, lazily, Bucky's palm splayed protectively against his jawbone and Masya laid out in a corner happily gnawing on a celebratory chew bone, and Steve thought, Steve thought, if it could be this simple forever, just like this, then he could die happy.

✖︎

Pepper orders him a latte, extra hot, just the way he likes it, and directs him to a quiet booth in the back of the cafe.

"Thanks, Pepper. You really didn't have to take me out for coffee, but I appreciate it."

Pepper stirs her sugar into her coffee and licks the foam neatly off. "Well, Tony woke up this morning already halfway through an extremely vocal mathematical analysis of a new composite he's working on, so I do actually need one right now," she says, laying her spoon down primly on her saucer. "What's been going on, Steve?"

Steve sighs. "It wasn't supposed to be this complicated. Things like suits, and floral arrangements, and photographers, this media circus..."

"Well, that's what happens when you're Captain America, I guess. You're a staple of American culture. There's a Smithsonian exhibit dedicated to your life… People are interested in you, in your life. In Bucky's life."

"Yeah, but—but Bucky and I grew up poor, you know. It was just us. And we didn't have money for a lot, but we had each other, and if... if I'm going to be marrying him, that's what it's supposed to be like. Simple. I don't want anyone to feel like they can have an opinion on this or dissect it. I don't want anyone making money off this. I don't want to have to defend it on national TV... It's just going to be between him and me, no one else. So why should a wedding be such a big deal?"

Pepper nods. Steve can see the cogs turning in her head. He suddenly feels like a sullen, angry burden.

"And then there's invite lists—not that we don't want people to come, but we've had three senators angry over table assignments, and where are we going to put the press? Bucky's family alone takes up three tables, and I barely even know these people—the first two, not the third—and Bucky's, you know, barely been cleared as mission ready, and this is giving him more stress, and if I hear anymore complaining about who's sitting where I'm going to start busting heads—“

He shuts up and takes an angry, fidgety sip of his coffee. “Bucky’s miserable. All this doesn’t matter—all I want is to marry him. That’s it.”

"You know," says Pepper, thoughtfully, "I hear the Maldives are nice this time of year."

Steve starts. “What?”

"I can get you a flight out this weekend. Tomorrow, even."

“Pepper.“

She smiles at him. "Think of it as Tony's and my wedding present to you. One of, anyway. Tony has multiple plans for wedding presents."

Steve is speechless. Pepper lays a hand over his. "Steve, you've both given your lives in service to this country. This publicity—you never wanted this. You're not celebrities, you're soldiers. If we can give you a little bit of privacy to do this, let us do it. We want you to be happy. You and Bucky both. That’s all. Let us deal with the rest."

✖︎

He slips into bed that night and presses his forehead to Bucky's hipbone. Bucky's got Masya tucked against his other side, in a grey, sprawled out lump of snoring dog, and his reading glasses are slipping down his nose. His hand comes down to ruffle softly through Steve's hair, though his gaze never leaves the page.

"Run away with me," Steve whispers, lips brushing against the scarred, loved skin of Bucky's hip.

"Hmm?" Bucky says absently.

"Run away with me, Buck."

That gets Bucky's attention, and he takes his glasses off, closes his book with a finger bookmarking his place. His eyes are dark blue and soft in the low light of the bedside lamp, and his hand cups Steve's head. "I already agreed to marry you, Rogers. Is this going to escalate? Are you going to ask me to rob a bank with you or something next?"

"In what world does marriage escalate to robbing banks?" Steve asks indignantly, and Bucky laughs, but twists to put his stuff on the bedside table and lies down next to him.

"What's going on, Stevie?"

"Nothing," Steve says, and sighs, wrapping his arm around Bucky's back to pull him closer. "I've just been thinking... All this complication over getting married—”

"Don't tell me you don't want to do it anymore because the media got a hold of it.”

"No! Well. Yes," Steve says cautiously.

Bucky stares at him.

"I was just thinking. We can elope."

Bucky lets out a huff of air and grins, the first truly happy smile Steve's seen him give in any discussion about The Wedding so far. "So, running away together, hey? That's the next plan of action?"

"Pepper got us tickets."

Bucky wriggles closer. Masya gives an indignant whuff and skips off the bed, heading for her bed in the living room. "Smart girl," Bucky murmurs, slinging a leg over Steve's hip. He's naked, and warm, and Steve wants to touch him everywhere.

"Marry me," Steve whispers. "On the beach. In the Maldives."

"I think that's the best idea you've had all day," Bucky breathes, and seals his mouth over Steve's.

✖︎

The weather in the Maldives is balmy and warm, and Steve wriggles his toes in the soft, white sand.

The setting sun illuminates the curves of Bucky's face, and the wind ruffles his hair onto his forehead. Steve can't stop smiling—he’s smiling like a maniac, he’s been smiling like a maniac all weekend, but it's okay, because Bucky is too.

His hands are steady where they're holding on to Bucky's, and the wedding swims dizzily by in a haze of vows and I do's and you may kiss the groom and then Bucky's in his arms, kissing him and kissing him and Steve has never been more sure of anything in his life.

"No take backs," Steve says later that night, spooned up behind Bucky, sweaty and naked and staring at their wedding rings, shiny and simple, next to each other on their intertwined fingers, flesh and metal laced together. "You're stuck with me now. You better be damn sure, Barnes."

"Barnes-Rogers," Bucky corrects him, turning over. "Don't you think that's the sort of thing you should've asked me before we got married?"

"Nope," Steve says, tucking a kiss under his chin, like a secret, a present left for later. "Wanted to get you good and hitched before you could think too hard about it."

Bucky laughs and rolls on top of him. He's already half hard. "Fuck, did you devise this whole plot for the sake of expediency, then? What dastardly plan have I walked into now?"

"Can't ask questions now!" Steve announces triumphantly. "Too late. No turning back.”

He holds on to Bucky's hips and rocks up, slowly, relishing in the delightful way Bucky bites his lip, naughty and carefree and come-hither.

"You got lucky, punk," Bucky says, leaning in to kiss Steve, flicking his tongue slowly, teasingly against the dip under Steve's bottom lip. "Promised you I'd follow you to the end of the line. Haven't broken my promise yet. Ain't gonna."

Steve lets Bucky press him back to the mattress and pull a leg around his hip, beginning the slow, inevitable slide towards ecstasy.

No, he isn't breaking that promise, either.

**Author's Note:**

> This is just... really self-indulgent, cliched schmoop about my aversion to weddings that wasn't meant to see the light of day until I showed it to [aceromanoffs](http://aceromanoffs.tumblr.com). Uh, sorry for pacing issues/typos.
> 
> Masya is a grey and white [pitbull](http://media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/e7/1b/40/e71b405ea6ae3c3ab6c13130a81ed97e.jpg). I have this whole headcanon around her being a rescue dog, but it doesn't really play into this. Steve found her, Bucky named her (never let it be said that Bucky has any creativity whatsoever), and it just kinda stuck.
> 
> As always, I am [caelestys](http://caelestys.tumblr.com) on Tumblr! Come say hi.
> 
> kelly_holden pointed out that same-sex marriage is illegal in the Maldives, which I really should have known if I'd done more research. I sincerely apologize for my mistake and I hope it doesn't impact upon your reading of the story.


End file.
